NonExistent Numbers
by MissJayne
Summary: Set straight after the season finale. Can Gibbs hold his team together?
1. Chapter 1

_Summary: Can Gibbs get his team back together? Set straight after Judgement Day._

_A/N I'm a Jibbs fan, and I can't believe what they did! _

_A/N 2 My first attempt at a story, and I have no beta. Any mistakes are my own._

_Set just after the season finale ended._

Chapter 1

Leroy Jethro Gibbs shoved the door open as he reached the catwalk, his team – his _old_ team – behind him. He was still in shock; Jenny was dead and he was getting a new team. He knew of only one person who could help him...

He reached into his pocket and grabbed his cell phone. Dialing the same number he had been trying for the last few days, he slammed it closed in frustration when he was told yet again that the phone was switched off.

"McGee," he barked, not slowing down.

"Err, boss... Gibbs..." he trailed off, unsure what was going on.

"It is possible to locate a cell phone if the phone is turned off?" Gibbs enquired.

"Erm... we no longer work for you. Were you listening to the new Director?"

Gibbs stopped dead in his tracks, turned around and glared at McGee. "You want to be transferred?"

Tony, Ziva and McGee shook their heads at the same time.

Gibbs interrupted them as they opened their mouths to speak. "Is it possible?" he tried again, slower this time.

"If it has a GPS chip in it, which most of the newer ones do, then it could –"

"202-555-1066. How long will it take?"

McGee's response was to race down the stairs and run over to his computer. The others followed more slowly, reaching his desk as the result of his search came back.

"According to this, the number doesn't exist," McGee informed Gibbs, confused.

Gibbs' only response was to dial the number again, this time using the phone on his desk. As he finished dialing, he put it on speakerphone.

"_The cellular customer you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please try again later_."

Tony and Ziva exchanged puzzled looks.

"Trying again, boss," McGee replied.

Gibbs tried to dial the number again from his cell, but slammed it shut as he got the same message.

"This is... odd," McGee muttered, making everyone gather behind him. "OK," he announced. "The number doesn't exist. There's no GPS chip. But it must exist for you to get a message... Who's it registered to? Maybe I can track it that way," he asked Gibbs.

His only reply was a shaken head. Gibbs stormed towards the back elevator, and his team continued to follow.

* * *

Abby Scuito stood in her lab, still upset over Jenny's death. She didn't want to work, but knew that the Director – '_the _old_ Director_' she reminded herself – would have wanted her to carry on. Inside, she felt miserable. Kate, Paula, Jenny... she was prevented from wondering who would be next on the list when Gibbs barged into her lab.

"Abs! Need you to trace a number," he told her.

She shook her head to clear it. "Yes, oh great one," she replied, without her usual cheerfulness. Still, a puzzle was a puzzle and might distract her from –

"Boss – not boss – Gibbs," McGee broke in. "The number doesn't exist. If I can't find it, how do you expect Abby to?"

Abby whirled around suddenly. "What do you mean 'Not boss'?" she inquired, surprised it had taken her so long to notice it.

"We have all been reassigned," Ziva calmly informed her. "I am going back to Israel –"

"You've been reassigned?" Abby almost screamed. "ALL of you?"

"McGee will still be here," offered Tony, trying to placate her. "But in cyber crime... and I'm going to be an Agent Afloat."

"Abs!" Gibbs tried again. "If you can trace the number, NO-ONE will be reassigned."

She instantly whirled back to her computer. "Tell me."

As Gibbs recited it again, he reached for his cell to attempt calling yet again.

"How can someone countermand the new Director's orders?" Tony queried.

Gibbs closed his cell for what felt like the thousandth time since he had heard about Jenny. "Blackmail. But I personally hope that Leon gets his butt kicked out of DC. Or our new Director might not last the week. It's surprising how fast old enemies can crawl out of the woodwork."

"You want to _blackmail _the new Director?" McGee looked shocked.

"No. Someone else is going to do the blackmailing."

"You know someone who can blackmail Vance?" Ziva asked, curious despite the situation. "What about?"

"I don't know and I'd rather not find out," Gibbs growled, fed up of the questioning. "Abs!"

"McGee was right, _el hefe_. The number doesn't exist."

The team all turned to look at Gibbs. He closed his eyes for a few moments, knowing that he couldn't protect them any longer. As he reopened his eyes, he looked around at his team one last time.

"You all did great," he told them, before walking out of the lab.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorry for posting this twice! I haven't quite got the hang of this yet!_

_Thanks to Kristen for all the wonderful suggestions. And thanks to everyone who reviewed._

Chapter 2

Gibbs drove home on autopilot. His mind wouldn't stop whirring. Jenny was gone. His team was being reassigned. And the only person who could help him was unreachable.

He debated what he was going to do. Should he retire again? There was nothing left to keep him at NCIS. Perhaps he and Ducky could retire together this time… but then he thought of Abby and realized that she would be heartbroken if he left so suddenly after all the changes.

Maybe he could retire in a year or so. Give Abby time to get used to things. Ducky could finish training Palmer…

Or perhaps he could go out in style. He grinned, the first time he'd felt even vaguely happy since… He shut off that particular thought. He could get in Leon's way at every step, until he was fired. It would avenge the reassignment of his team, and cheer him up somewhat.

His mind made up, he arrived home. He went straight to his basement, and froze…

She was sitting at his workbench, mug of bourbon in hand. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, her green eyes twinkled as she saw him. She grinned, a comfortable smile that he hadn't seen in years.

"Hello Jethro."

* * *

"I don't believe this," Palmer exclaimed. He was sitting in a bar not far from the Navy Yard, having been dragged there by Ducky. Tony, Ziva, McGee and Abby were also present, and had just told him about the reassignments. "How can they separate you guys? I mean, your solve rate is really high."

"We weren't given a reason," McGee told him.

"Easy for you to say that, Probie," Tony complained. "You're staying here. I have to go on a freaking boat. Gibbs was trying to locate someone who could get us out of this mess –"

"Excuse me, but if we are comparing situations then mine is a lot worse," Ziva interrupted. "And I liked Gibbs' idea. Blackmail works very well."

"Who was Gibbs trying to blackmail?" Palmer asked, getting confused.

"Director Vance. But he couldn't get hold of someone."

"Did he tell you _who_ he was trying to talk to?" Ducky inquired.

"No. Apparently the number he has doesn't exist."

"Ah," Ducky murmured, turning back to his drink.

Tony rounded on him. "Ah! Can you get hold of this magic person?"

"Alas no. He was right about this _magic _person being able to help." He smiled softly at Tony, who looked distressed. "I wonder…"

"So you do know a way!" Abby squealed. A minute ago she had been in tears, but with hope around the corner…

"No, no, not that," Ducky told her gently. "I was wondering about… this person's response to Jenny's demise. I certainly wouldn't want to be the one to tell next of kin." He shuddered softly. "I'm not sure I'd survive."

"Next of kin?" Ziva repeated. "Jenny had no family left."

"Did she tell you that, or Mossad?"

"Both."

Ducky chuckled to himself, feeling rather proud. "Don't always believe what you see on paper, my dear," he told her, and refused to answer any more questions.

* * *

It took Gibbs a few minutes to find his voice again, much to the amusement of the redhead. By then, she had poured him a drink and topped up her own.

"You were lucky you didn't give me a heart attack," he called to her, taking a few shaky steps down the steps.

She said nothing as he made his way over to her and looked straight into her eyes. He sighed at what he saw.

"I thought… I _hoped_ that the last few days had all been a horrible dream." He took the proffered mug and cradled it in his hands. Suddenly he looked up as a thought occurred to him. "Have you heard –"

"Yes."

"But you weren't at the funeral."

She giggled.

"How are you finding any of this funny?" he growled, letting his frustrations get the better of him.

She looked at him as though he was mad. "And if I'd shown up, what do you think would have happened?"

He tried to consider what she was saying, but found it was getting harder to concentrate by the minute. He took a few sips from his mug and turned away from her.

"Exactly," she told him, sounding smug.

"It was a private ceremony."

"I could have started a riot."

He turned back around to spot another grin on her face. "It was a private ceremony," he repeated.

"You had to check which one I was when you came over! Imagine what would have happened if I had been present. No one would have paid the slightest bit of attention to the service, just to me! I _did _attend, through a scope at a thousand meters and a few strategically placed bugs."

He stared at her for a minute. She did the same, refusing to back down from the challenge. "She's not dead," he stated finally.

"Jennifer Shepard was shot and killed," she replied. "Ducky autopsied her. You watched the burial. She's dead."

"You wouldn't be so damn cheerful if she was dead."

"I'm exceptionally good at my job. Which includes hiding my feelings."

"You should be in tears. She's not dead. Where _exactly_ is she?"

"Six feet under."

He slammed his free hand down on the bench. "Stop lying to me," he roared in her face.

She closed her eyes for a moment to bury her feelings. Then she looked him in the eye. "She was dying anyway. She… she told me a few months ago. I suggested that she ask Ducky for another opinion, just to be sure." She paused for a moment and took another sip of bourbon to calm her. "We had the wake a fortnight ago. Just the two of us. She didn't want to tell you. I've had my chance to mourn, and she would have preferred to go out in a bang than suffering."

* * *

NCIS Director Leon Vance looked around his new office. He had been working in it for the last three weeks, but then it belonged to someone else. Now…

He glanced at his watch. 2230. Most people would be gone, including Gibbs. Even so, Vance locked the door before going to the filling cabinet again. He entered the code and opened the drawer, searching for a different file this time. But it wasn't there…

* * *

Gibbs had taken the chair and she was sitting on the bottom step. The basement had been silent for a while, giving both parties a chance to recover.

"I need a favor."

She wasn't surprised. He always wanted something. "And what do you require?"

"Leon's messing with my team. I'm going to have to break in a new one."

"Let me guess, you want me to get you your old team back."

He just looked at her.

"No."

"Why not?" He glared at her, forgetting for a moment that she was the only one who wasn't fazed by his glares.

"Why should I?"

"Did she tell you about Ziva?"

"Ziva… she saved her life in Cairo once."

"Leon's having her transferred back to Mossad."

"If I understand correctly, she never left Mossad."

"She saved her life, and you want her to be sent back?"

"There is nothing I can do."

"Bull."

They stared at each other for a few moments, before she gave in this time. "I need some time."

"She gets on a plane in 13 hours."

"Try 13 weeks."

"WHAT?"

"I can't promise it won't take 13 months, but I think it would be highly unlikely."

"What are you up to this time?" he growled.

"I am giving him the rope to hang himself with. Unfortunately, that takes time. If I interfere now, it'll take even longer."

"Just get Ziva back. I can live without the others until you've finished your little plot."

"Translation: Someone can teach you to email and call the others, but you won't be able to get a hold of Ziva as easily."

"See, you do understand."

"You don't seem to understand _me_. It's not going to happen. Forget it."

"Look –"

She stood up abruptly. "Jethro, believe me when I say that I can't help you this time. I'm not omnipotent." She was halfway up the steps before his voice stopped her.

"When I saw you down here, I thought…"

"You thought I was Jennifer."

He didn't need to reply.

She turned to face him. "That was the reason I didn't show at the funeral. I don't need conspiracy theories running uncontrolled throughout the federal government. Not right now anyway. I'm sorry Jethro."

He watched despondently as the spitting image of Jennifer Shepard walked out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks again to my wonderful beta reader Kristen, and to everyone who left me a review or put my story on alert. Thanks to Talleigh for spotting my Spanish error in the first chapter; I knew I should have taken Spanish… Apologies for the slow updates; I'm in the middle of exam season, but they'll be over soon and I can update more often!_

Chapter 3

Not for the first time, Gibbs debated whether to continue sitting at his desk or go home. In theory he could take time off after Jenny's death. In practice he didn't think it was a good idea for him to be left completely alone.

He had hoped against all hope that Jenny was still alive, but knew that he was wrong. His gut told him that she was dead. On the other hand, mysterious unannounced visits from Jenny's tw – _doppelganger_ – usually meant that something was going on. He made a mental note to talk to Ducky at some point.

He glanced at his watch. 0700. His team – his _old_ team – would have been arriving by now, laughing and joking. Instead he had three files in front of him, and three empty desks. Ziva would be heading towards the airport, as would Tony. And McGee was probably lurking around the cyber crime unit already.

He had read through the personnel files for the fifth time that morning when Vance appeared.

"Thought you'd like a few days to get used to your new people," the Director offered. "Your team will be attending a seminar on communication skills today. It starts at 9. Tomorrow is a teamwork seminar. After that, you can start working cases again."

Gibbs was tempted to punch something. He hated seminars. Something about being told what to do by a guy who had never been in the situation he was talking about. He couldn't exactly go home at this point, now that Leon knew he was in the building. But he hadn't been told not to bait him.

"I'll send my team along," he offered indifferently.

"You too, Gibbs," Vance warned. "By the way, I've been looking for a file. The system upstairs is a little confusing. You wouldn't happen to know of another place where personnel files are stored?"

Gibbs considered this. The sooner Leon hung himself the better, in his opinion. Not knowing exactly what was going on though, he wasn't sure what to do. His gut told him to tell the truth. "To the best of my knowledge, all personnel files are kept in the cabinets in Jen – in your office, as well as being on the computer system."

"I'm looking for Jenny's one. I need to alter her status. I managed to change the computerized version, but I need to do the one on paper as well."

"They're filed alphabetically. Try asking Cynthia. She might know if the file was moved."

"I asked," came the reply. "She was very unhelpful. I might need to start searching for a new assistant."

Gibbs was carefully to keep his face neutral. There was a chance he could get his team back, but he didn't think he could keep Cynthia in her job. "Perhaps it was misfiled?" he offered.

"Possibly." Vance headed towards the stairs. "Do not miss the seminars, Gibbs," he warned.

Gibbs added another mental note to his list. Although his gut told him it would be a bad idea to search for the missing file himself, he wondered what was so important about it that Leon was hunting for it.

* * *

Ziva David was sitting on a very uncomfortable chair at the airport when her flight was announced. She sighed. She desperately missed Jenny, and knew that when she reached Tel Aviv she would not be allowed to mourn. She didn't want to return to Mossad, not now. She had been enjoying her job, liked Tony and McGee, and even Gibbs for that matter. Going home would be… different. And she didn't want to go.

"Penny for your thoughts," came a very familiar voice next to her. She turned, angry that she had been thinking so deeply that she hadn't noticed someone approaching. Her anger rapidly turned to shock.

"What are _you_ doing here?!"

* * *

Gibbs poured himself another bourbon. He was glad for the tranquility of his basement. Two days and two seminars had driven him crazy. He had turned his thoughts inwards during the talks, realizing how much he missed Jenny. What he would do for one more chance to see her. To hold her. To tell her how he felt.

Vance had been livid a few hours ago. Apparently Ziva had not boarded her flight, was not in Israel, and seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth. The Director had only turned to Gibbs when he discovered that the security tapes had been wiped clean after Ziva had entered the airport. Abby had initially bore the brunt of Vance's anger as she had been unable to retrieve anything from the tapes. He had only let up after the FBI had given him the same result. That in turn had led to Gibbs being questioned. No, he didn't know where she was. No, she hadn't said anything about not obeying her orders. Yes, he would call the minute she got in touch with him.

Gibbs had not mentioned his strong suspicions that a conversation in his basement a short time ago might have led to her disappearance. He knew that Ziva could take care of herself, and was prepared to bet that a brief phone call in a few days would pacify Mossad. A similar call to NCIS was not likely to occur any time soon.

Hearing a noise, he looked up to see Ducky coming down the stairs.

"Jethro," his friend greeted him. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine Duck." He didn't mention that he could do without the check-up.

"I have bought you some food. You don't seem to be eating properly."

"New Director tell you that?"

"Young Abigail mentioned that you haven't been looking well recently."

Gibbs groaned quietly. He knew that he wasn't looking after himself as well as normal, but what did people expect? Coffee was about the only thing he could keep down, coffee and bourbon. And as much as he was tempted to drink the lonely nights away, he needed his wits about him at the moment.

"Here," Ducky placed a paper bag on the side and proceeded to remove some takeout cartons from it. "From that Chinese place I know you frequent."

Gibbs took a carton, sniffed it gingerly and decided to give it a go.

"What do you think of your new team?" Ducky asked.

"Useless."

"They have to observe an autopsy later this week. I'd like to know a little more about them than 'useless'."

He considered his options. Ducky was clearly not going to go away any time soon. If he kept quiet, the stories would led to him thinking about Jenny again. If he talked, he might feel a bit better for a short while.

"What about the tall gentleman?" Ducky prompted. "Black hair, moustache, beard, glasses. Abigail adores him."

"Thomas Hughes." Maybe a conversation with Ducky would do him some good. "Been an Agent Afloat for the last four years. Never worked a proper crime scene. Seems to have a problem with authority."

"It doesn't seem like a good idea for a federal agent to have authority issues."

"Duck, I'm getting these guys as a punishment. It wouldn't work if they were wonderful."

Ducky turned his gaze from his food to his friend. "Why are you being punished?" he queried.

"Haven't got a clue. Hughes is sarcastic, pessimistic and dismal."

"He must have some good qualities. And your gut has something to say on everything."

"Jenny's… next of kin is involved somehow. Smart, intelligent, not going to buy any bull that some hick cop tries to pull on us."

"How do you know she's involved?"

"Showed up here after the funeral. Said she wanted Leon to hang himself."

"I hope she didn't mean literally."

The two men glanced at each other, momentarily perturbed.

"Two probies," Gibbs continued. "Charlotte Richards. Twenties. Tall, blonde, clearly here to flirt, not to do any work."

"You thought the same about DiNozzo when you first met him."

"He could investigate as well. This one is always giggling on her phone. The word 'bimbo' was made for her."

"Maybe she'll grow on you in time."

"Mark Koppi. Early thirties. Used to be an accountant. Very 'by the book'. Shorter than the others, floppy brown hair, pierced ears."

"What do you have against pierced ears?"

"Duck, women pierce their ears. Men don't."

"I debated having it done once."

Gibbs stared at him in shock.

"I was a young man then, at Edinburgh. One night after an exceptional amount of alcohol was consumed, Rosemunda –"

"I really don't want to know."

Ducky smiled. "Enjoyed your food?"

Gibbs was surprised to discover that he had managed to eat something. "I miss her," he admitted.

Ducky stood up. "She went down fighting Jethro." He paused. "Regrettably I have to go home to mother now. If you like, I could come back tomorrow, after you have the chance to, erm, 'test-drive' your team in the field."

Gibbs allowed a rare smile to show. "Thanks."


	4. Chapter 4

_Hurrah! The exams are over so there is more time for writing and updating! Thanks again to my beta Kristen._

Chapter 4

Gibbs had had an odd week. His team had been sent to a B&E, and they obviously had no idea of what to do. After smacking everyone's heads multiple times, he had discovered that the teenage daughter's ex-boyfriend had been responsible. Evidently the ex had attempted to beg her to take him back, but the burglar alarm had made him lose his nerve. Gibbs had cursed young love and left his subordinates to sort out the mess.

He had been unexpectedly pleased to discover hot food on his front doorstep for the past few days. Initially he had presumed that Ducky was sending it, unable to come in person because of a sudden paperwork backlog. After his agents had viewed their first autopsy, he had changed his mind.

He felt contented when they had all turned green, which had become tinted with sorrow when he remembered Jenny. Afterwards he had mentioned the food to Ducky, who immediately protested that he wasn't sending anything although he wished that he had come up with the idea. Abby, who was becoming more and more depressed by the day, had also denied sending him food. He doubted that his old team was sending parcels, even though Ziva had briefly crossed his mind. He suspected that she was keeping out of sight though.

Mossad had stopped searching, and a visit to the Israeli Embassy had given him a few answers. A phone call had reached Director David, saying that Ziva was on a very important mission and couldn't be contacted. Several code words were given as proof. Gibbs had laughed when he was told that the orders included not telling anyone at NCIS about Ziva except himself.

Vance had sent out several internal memos to every agent, asking if they knew where any personnel files might be. Gibbs had spent a lot of time pondering what was so important about the file, and why it couldn't be located.

He was debating whether to bribe McGee when his phone rang. A double homicide. Normally he wouldn't mind attending, but with his new team…

"Gear up," he yelled in their general direction. Koppi jumped out of his seat so fast that he fell over backwards. Hughes got his things together so slowly that Gibbs felt that paint would dry quicker. Richards gave no indication of hearing him and continued to chatter on her cell.

"Oi!" He bellowed as though he was trying to wake the dead. "Get your stuff and move out NOW."

This time they made more of an effort. A few head-slaps helped get everyone into the elevator. Gibbs decided that bribery was a necessary option.

* * *

Two dead Petty Officers made everyone somber. Gibbs assigned tasks while waiting for Ducky. No one seemed to know that moving the body in any way before the medical examiner arrived was bad. Hughes had immediately tried to roll one of the petty officer's onto his front before Gibbs had screamed at him.

"Goodness me Jethro," exclaimed Ducky, appearing out of nowhere, Palmer trudging next to him. "I could hear you from the parking lot. Now, what do we have here?"

"Two dead guys in a motel room," Richards muttered, flickering her long blonde hair over her shoulders.

"Looks like bullet wounds," offered Hughes.

Ducky looked up from one of the bodies. "They've been moved."

"Agent Hughes thought it was a bright idea to attempt turning him over," Gibbs growled, gesturing at the body in front of Ducky.

"No, no, no, _before_ that. The lividity is fixed in two different places, and unless Agent Hughes moved the body a few hours ago then he isn't the cause of it."

"It looks the same over here," Palmer confirmed, over by the other body.

"Got me a TOD Duck?" Gibbs asked.

"Maybe six hours ago? And they were both moved since then, possibly about three hours ago?"

"So the killer," postulated Palmer, "Hung around for three hours and then moved the bodies."

"Perhaps he was looking for something," Ducky offered.

"Rule Eight," Gibbs interjected. "No assumptions."

"What do you mean _rule_?" Koppi queried.

Ducky glanced at the expression on Gibbs' face and decided to make himself scarce. "Mr. Palmer, I think I'll help you with the gurneys."

"It's OK Doctor, I can…" he trailed off as he saw Gibbs' face as well. "Of course. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," came the reply as they raced to safety.

* * *

Abby was feeling better than she had in a week. At first, she had been upset about not being able to see Tony and Ziva, even though Tony was making an effort to email her every day. Her shock at the Director's death was starting to wear off, but she constantly wished for her back. Vance had ordered her to comply with the dress code and keep the music off. She had baulked at the orders until Gibbs had told her to obey them for the time being. He had promised that he knew someone who could sort it all out, but it would take a little time to arrange it.

The reason for Abby's newfound delight was next to her. McGee had been given half a day off and had chosen to spend it with her. Although she had lots of evidence to process, he had grabbed a chair and sat next to her, telling her about his new co-workers. His new tasks seemed very boring compared to what he had been doing before. On the other hand, he was working less hours and was trying to spend some of that free time with her.

Suddenly she squealed and threw herself at the person coming through the door.

"GIBBS!"

"Whoa Abs," he told her as he struggled to get out of her arms.

"When's the revolution starting?" She pulled back and grinned, snatching the Caff-Pow from his hands.

"I don't know. Finished processing my evidence yet?" he inquired.

She turned back to her computer. "Bullets are nine millimeter. I guess Ducky told you it was one shot, one kill. No casings were found. Both Petty Officers were shot in the front so they were facing their attacker. No defensive wounds, no signs of a struggle. They probably knew their killer," she rapidly reeled off.

"Can you tell who was killed first?"

"Judging from the blood splatter, Petty Officer Simms was shot first and then Petty Officer Turner. I can't tell you who _died_ first, unless they were both killed instantly."

Gibbs resisted the urge to head-slap her. He had been doing it so often to his new team that it felt like second nature. "Find anything else?"

"Pockets were empty, most likely due to the killer. Lots and lots of fingerprints, but no hits in AFIS. Seriously Gibbs, when is the revolution starting?"

He glanced over at McGee. "Doing anything?" he asked him.

McGee was taken aback. "Not right now boss… I mean Gibbs."

"I need you," Gibbs glanced towards the door and lowered his voice, "To hack into the CIA."

"Why?"

He only got a glare in response.

"OK. What am I looking for?"

"An operative codenamed Eve. I need contact details. She's turned her phone off again."

"Contact details, as in…"

"Cell phone number, home address, CIA extension number, email, anything and everything I can use to get hold of her."

"With just a codename? Do you have a real name, or a vague job description? Any operations she might have been involved with recently?"

Gibbs gave him another glare. "Codename only. No idea what she's been doing lately, but I'd like to know."

McGee turned to the computer and started typing. "How long have I got?"

"As long as you need to not get caught by either the CIA or Vance."

"Really?!"

"It'll be no use if they find out about it first," Gibbs called over his shoulder as he left.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks again to Kristen. This chapter is for M E Wofford, who has practically been begging me to post it._

_A/N I am completely against cruelty to animals._

Chapter 5

By the time McGee found Gibbs the next morning, he was feeling apprehensive. It had taken him several hours to locate the CIA files that Gibbs had requested, and he had decided to read a few of the recent operations before he went home. They had scared him. He thought that quite a lot of it was like something out of a James Bond novel. Whoever the operative was, she seemed to get whatever information she wanted from a wide variety of sources. Moreover, she was undoubtedly not afraid to get her hands dirty. He had barely slept due to his fear of her finding him.

He took a few moments to observe Gibbs. His former boss seemed more stressed than usual, and frustrated too. But there was something else as well, something that almost glimmered in his eye – a plan. A way out. Something that no one else knew. He suspected it had something to do with the operative.

Gibbs cleared his throat loudly when he caught his former agent staring at him. "What have you got?" he asked.

McGee handed over a slip of paper. "A cell phone number and an email address. I've read some of the recent operations too."

"What's the current one?"

"Something called 'Lazarus'. I couldn't find any details on it though." He lowered his voice. "Do you think… _she'll _come after me? For getting you these details?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "No."

"What if she does?"

"Tell her to call me."

McGee opened his mouth to ask something else when there was a loud scream. It sounded as though it had come from the Director's office. Vance had only entered it a few seconds previously, not spotting the two agents conversing on the lower level.

"Go, McGee," hissed Gibbs as he jumped out of his chair and raced for the stairs. "With me," he called to his new team.

McGee disappeared towards his new work area as Gibbs burst through the door into the Director's office…

There was a huge pig on the desk. A very dead pig. With its' guts hanging out.

From the lack of blood, Gibbs guessed that the pig had been dead before the mutilation. He also had a suspect in mind. Someone who enjoyed playing with people's minds, someone who was definitely up to something.

Vance was as pale as a sheet, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

"Why don't you go downstairs Director," Gibbs offered calmly. "We'll deal with this."

Vance seemed to find his voice. "I want the security tapes checked. I want whoever did this to be found. I want their head on a stick," he ordered as he left the room.

"Get Ducky," Gibbs told Hughes. "Tell him it looks like Calais again."

His agent raced out of the room. The others looked as though they wanted to go nowhere near the carcass. Gibbs examined the desk carefully, searching for anything that might have been left behind.

Two minutes later, Ducky and his assistant walked through the door.

"Aha," the Scotsman proclaimed. "Calais. She's bold to try this in a federal building, I'll give her that."

"You know who did this?" Palmer inquired. "Already?"

"It's a warning." He moved to the desk and scrutinized the pig. "When we open him up, I bet we'll find that the pig died of natural causes."

"So you know who did this?"

"I had the pleasure of meeting her once, a very long time ago now. Lovely girl. Knows how to get what she wants. Doesn't take no for an answer."

"We're going to arrest her," Richards declared.

Ducky and Gibbs merely laughed.

"What's so funny?" she questioned.

"Even if you can find some proof," Ducky told her, a twinkle in his eye, "You won't be able to find her. She could simply be expressing her grief."

"Who expresses their grief by gutting a pig?"

He smiled kindly at her. "I don't think she likes our new Director very much. Give her time."

"It's definitely a warning, Duck," Gibbs told him, straightening up. "She wasn't grieving when I saw her, but she was certainly up to something. Scaring Vance is stage one. This is going to get worse."

* * *

It took Gibbs four hours before he could head to Abby's lab. Scuttlebutt was that Vance had become infuriated when she was unable to find anything on the security tapes again. The Director had pointed out that anyone carrying an enormous pig, alive or not, around the building should be effortless to find. The Goth had responded by telling him to let the FBI prove her correct once more.

Ducky had confirmed that the pig had had a heart attack about twenty hours ago, and had been seen wandering the building with a big smile on his face, chuckling to himself. Fortunately, Vance hadn't seen him, or Gibbs feared his old friend would be fired.

As Gibbs entered the lab, he noticed that Abby was still sifting through the security tapes. "There's nothing here Gibbs," she complained without turning round.

"You won't find anything," he reassured her.

This time she spun around. "What do you mean?"

"I know who did this," he admitted. "And she's not stupid enough to get caught on tape."

"How do you get a pig into a building without being seen?"

"Some things I don't want to know."

She made a move for the Caf-Pow in his hands; he held it out of her reach.

"Need you to trace a number."

"Which I can do quicker with caffeine goodness."

"Trace it, and you can have the drink."

Abby opened her search program. "What's the number?"

"202-555-2012," he told her, reading from the piece of paper McGee had given him earlier.

"Have you tried calling it? Is this another of those bizarre numbers that doesn't exist?"

"Might be, might not be. It just keeps ringing, no voicemail this time."

"Gibbs," she protested. "This number doesn't exist either."

He shook his head softly. Damn her. How could she hide a cell phone? "Plan B. Try this email address." He gave her the piece of paper.

"What do you want me to say? Your phone doesn't exist and we need to talk?"

"Tell her to call me," he suggested.

Abby rolled her eyes but started to type. "What kind of person kills a poor innocent pig?"

"She didn't kill him."

"She mutilated him."

"By gutting him? If you eat meat Abs, you're encouraging dead animal mutilation yourself."

"One email sent." She turned back to look at him. "That's a lot of words for a strong, silent type."

He smiled. "I'm only repeating what someone said to me once."

"The last time this happened?"

"Ducky told you," he guessed.

"Palmer, actually. He said that you and Ducky know who did this."

"No proof."

The computer dinged quietly, and Abby whirled again. "What?!"

"Problem?"

"I got a reply saying that this email address doesn't exist. I'll try again."

They both jumped as Gibbs' phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID. "Don't bother Abs," he told her. "I think she got the message."


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks again to Kristen for being a wonderful beta! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and/or added this story to their alerts._

_Special thanks to Shorts for putting up with my insane ramblings as to whether 'Marine' should have a capital letter at the start or not! (I was supposed to be revising for an exam the next day and I was a little stressed out)._

_Hope you enjoy the next part._

Chapter 6

A small, out of the way bar served as their meeting point. It was dark and stank of stale beer. On any other day, Gibbs would have refused to enter the place. Today, he desperately needed to talk to an old acquaintance, one who was causing him a lot of trouble.

He had chosen a booth hidden at the back to wait in. Bought himself a bourbon and observed the room quietly. Nothing seemed to be out of place, no one seemed to be paying him too much attention.

He knew the moment she entered. She was wearing mirror-like shades and a baseball cap, evidently having realized that a recently dead woman walking into a bar was a bad idea. She persuaded the bartender to give her a bourbon on the house, before unerringly locating her target. Sinking into the booth opposite him, she sipped her drink before removing the shades.

"Remind me again why I thought it was smart to run two ops simultaneously?" she grumbled, rubbing her forehead.

"Saves time?" he offered.

"I haven't slept in three days, I'm surviving on coffee –"

"You love it."

She sighed heavily. "Join the CIA, see the world, watch as everything slides out of control."

Gibbs was puzzled. This was not normal behavior for her. "Job gone wrong or something?"

"Or something."

It took him a moment to twig that she was probably referring to Jenny's death. Whereas he had had time to grieve while dealing with his new team, she had almost certainly thrown herself headlong into anything available. Including, it seemed, harassing Vance.

He took another sip of his bourbon to summon the courage to change topics. "You after Vance for a reason?"

"Maybe."

"Humor me."

Unexpectedly, she grinned.

"What?"

"The great Leroy Jethro Gibbs doesn't know why I want him to choke on a toothpick?"

"He did something to annoy you."

"He didn't just annoy _me_…"

He stared at her, amazed as to how quickly she could change moods. She had always been slightly cheeky; her uncanny ability to wind anyone and everyone up mixed perfectly with her stubbornness. If she didn't want to answer a question, she could dig her heels in forevermore.

"I thought the pig was a wonderful touch," she informed him.

"What are you up to?"

"Why do you care?"

Their staring match was only interrupted when an obviously inebriated man bumped into their table. "Hey gorgeous," he slurred in the general direction of the redhead.

"Go to Hell," she told him without turning her head.

"What's your name?"

"Lily," she offered, hoping he would leave. "Scram."

"You know what Lily means? Means –"

"Innocence. Purity. Scram."

"And beauty. It suits you."

"I'm not innocent. I'm not pure. Scram."

He attempted to serenade her. "You'll always be innocent to me."

She turned and glared at him. "I murdered a woman in cold blood ten days ago. Scram."

The man seemed to sober up.

"I'm a federal agent. Scram."

This time he did as he was told.

She turned back to Gibbs and grinned again. "Nice to know I still have admirers."

He didn't reply for a minute. Jenny had died ten days ago – and it hurt more every day. What had Lily been doing at the time? Was it connected to her apparent lack of mourning? What if –

He stood up suddenly as a startling thought came to him.

"Going somewhere?" she asked.

He pushed his bourbon towards her in reply.

"Jethro," she called as he tried to leave.

He paused momentarily.

"I heard that Simms and Turner had a checking account in the Caymans."

He didn't look back as he left.

* * *

Standing in the elevator, Gibbs wondered, not for the first time, about Tony. His old senior field agent had sent him a few emails since his reassignment, which Gibbs had been able to access via Abby. The messages had been brief, something that worried Gibbs. He knew that Tony blamed himself for Jenny's death, for failing to trail her. Nevertheless, he had been following orders. This had not redeemed him in the Marine's eyes; now he was having second thoughts. He knew that Lily was conniving, but he was starting to think that everyone seriously underestimated her. If she had pulled off what he thought she had…

The doors opened and Gibbs strode into Autopsy. Maybe he could get some answers here.

"Duck?" he inquired, seeing his old friend engrossed in a file at his desk.

He jumped. "Goodness me Jethro. I thought you went home."

"Caught up with an associate. She gave me an idea."

"She's highly manipulative. At least she is if we're talking about the same associate."

Gibbs looked towards the morgue drawers, deep in thought. If this were his op, what would he do? "When you autopsied… Jenny… was there anything unusual?"

Ducky put the file down and turned to look at him properly. "Unusual?"

"Was the illness as far along as you thought it was?"

The doctor stared at him in confusion.

Gibbs tried again. "Was her illness at the same stage as when you examined her?"

"Oh! You're asking if the scans I received definitely belonged to her?"

"Something like that."

"Yes. Nothing was amiss."

"Did you take the original scans or did someone else?"

"What's this about?"

"Please Ducky, I'm trying to work something out."

Ducky sighed. "She bought the scans to me. She didn't give me her doctor's name, just wanted a second opinion."

Gibbs paused. Maybe his gut had been wrong originally. "How did you verify it was her?"

This time Ducky laughed. "Jethro, you think I identified the wrong one?"

"No, Lily's definitely in town. I think we're being played."

"I took her fingerprints. Abigail matched them to those on record. I visually identified her, as did Tony and Ziva at the scene. Palmer was in here when I did the autopsy and he didn't spot anything wrong."

"DNA?"

"I didn't see the need. Abigail is run off her feet as it is. I visually identified her, I double-checked with the fingerprints."

Gibbs made a few mental notes before continuing. "Did you test for gun-shot residue on her hands? Did Abby?"

Ducky stood up. He was starting to lose his patience. "Jethro, it was her. I did not test for GSR because, unlike what Hollywood would like us to think, it disappears in two hours and I received the body after 30! Everyone involved was dead, was _here_ in fact. I had another four autopsies to conduct, and even with Mr. Palmer's help, I do not have all the time in the world."

"I'm sorry Duck. I just… I need to be sure," he soothed. He headed back towards the elevator.

"She is _not_ capable of everything," Ducky called after his friend.

* * *

Gibbs burst into the lab, and stopped dead. Something seemed to change every time he came in. First the dress code had been enforced, then the music was turned off. Bert the hippo had been taken home, and Mop Ziva and Mop Tony had been relegated to the supply closet.

Now Abby was stalking up and down, fuming, while McGee unsuccessfully attempted to calm her down.

"He's gone too far this time! I'm not putting up with this any longer! He can send all his poxy evidence to the FBI. This is the last straw – "

"Abs?" he called. "Why is your hair –"

She turned towards him, fury written all over her face. "In a single bun? Apparently Mr. I'm-Going-To-Get-A-Toothpick-Rammed-Down-My-Throat-Before-Too-Long has decided that my pigtails could get caught in equipment. Like _that's _going to happen."

"Abs –"

"I mean, I'm careful. I'm not some brainless idiot; I know what I'm doing! And he thinks he knows better."

"Abs –"

"I'm _this _close to leaving. Jenny let me do what I wanted. Why can't he –"

"Jenny might be alive," he interrupted, trying to get her to listen.

She did. "No way. She's dead. Don't even _think _that, Gibbs."

McGee chose to join in. "No one could survive getting shot like that."

"I'm not too sure," Gibbs admitted. "I think it has something to do with Operation Lazarus. The CIA doesn't always come up with enigmatic code names."

"And since Lazarus rose from the dead, you think Jenny could do the same?" Abby queried.

"I think her death was faked. I need your help to prove it."

"But Ducky did the autopsy. He would have noticed something."

Gibbs sighed. They were responding exactly how he had feared, and presumably Lily was counting on it. "You ran the fingerprints. Could they have been changed somehow? What about the crime scene? Could someone else have been there?"

Abby considered for a moment. "Agent Franks would have noticed if something was off," she declared.

"Why did she get Franks involved in the first place? If I were running this, I'd need a witness. Someone who had seen just enough to verify the death, but hadn't seen everything."

"I thought she asked Franks to protect you."

"She took out four gunmen by herself. I don't doubt that she could do that, but why involve Franks?"

"Hmmm…"

"Hang on a minute, boss," McGee spoke up. "So Agent Decker _was_ murdered, but by the CIA? And the four gunmen agreed to die too? Natasha? And whoever was autopsied in Jenny's place?"

"Tim has a point, Gibbs," Abby said. "The CIA takes out seven people to fake one person's death? It's a little excessive."

"I don't know _why_ they faked it, but Jenny is alive. Li – an old acquaintance should be butchering anyone and everyone she feels is responsible. Instead she's looking exhausted but hasn't lost her sense of humor."

"Everyone reacts differently to death," Abby pointed out. "Li – who?"

"Doesn't matter." He paused, debating the best way to get them on his side. "Can you look at the evidence, and see if anything doesn't fit? Try comparing original printed pictures in the file to the current ones stored in the system. And see if you can get a copy of Jenny's prints from elsewhere. There's at least one computer expert working on this, possibly changing our files, definitely playing with the security footage."

"And if I can't find anything? You'll give up this crazy theory?"

"Yes," he promised. '_At least I won't mention it to them again_,' he thought. Aloud, he said, "McGee."

"Boss?"

"Hack the CIA again. Look for anything on Operation Lazarus. See if you can figure out where they could stash Jenny for a few weeks. She was presumably injured at some point in that firefight. While you're at it, look through Missing Persons to see if anyone matches her description. Or… even better, try the hospitals. Our Jane Doe was ill, ill enough to have scans taken. Someone must have noticed her disappearance."

"Yes boss," they chimed.

"Don't let Vance see what you're doing."

"Yes boss," they chimed again.

When he had left, McGee faced Abby. "He's losing it."

"No," she answered. "The gut has realized something. All we have to do is back it up."

"Easier said than done," he told her as he began his work.


	7. Chapter 7

_Yet more wonderful credit to Kristen for betaing. Thanks to Sophie for letting me borrow her surname when I couldn't invent one. Thanks to my brother for the encouragement to continue._

Chapter 7

Gibbs sat behind the wheel of his car, trying to find the strength to get out and face the day ahead of him. Eleven days. Eleven days since Jenny had died. Eleven days since his world had ended again – or maybe not. Lily was being more devious than ever, of that he was sure. Her reactions were all wrong; she wasn't grieving, she wasn't out for revenge. Natasha should not have lived for long enough to find him. Something else was going on.

Operation Lazarus.

He was prepared to bet a lot of money on what it involved.

And shoot the idiot who came up with such an obvious name.

In his head, he could hear Jenny complaining about inter-agency co-operation. Surely he could restrain himself from shooting other agents, especially if they were CIA. And while he was around, where was his paperwork on the Blain case?

He decided that when he figured out what was going on, he was going to kill Lily, before tattooing names to foreheads. Trying to tell Jenny and Lily apart had always been… trying.

He wondered how long he could sit in his car before Vance sent out a search party. A few hours perhaps? He had no reason to head for the squad room. His new team was next to useless. The case they had was going nowhere fast. Maybe he could sit around all day…

A faint knocking on the window drew him out of his thoughts. He turned his head.

Speak of the devil. Vance.

He rolled the window down.

"Your shift started two hours ago, Agent Gibbs. Do you have a good reason for being here?"

"Thinking about the Simms and Turner case."

"You can't do that in the squad room?"

"Nope."

Vance decided to try a different approach. "Do you need some time off? You refused to take any after Jenny's death. Perhaps it's catching up with you now?"

Gibbs rolled the window back up before stepping out of the car. There was no way he was going to let the Evil Toothpick Guy, as Tony had coined him before being transferred, think he was weak.

Vance gave him a smile that was meant to be reassuring, but made Gibbs want to reach for his gun. "Any leads on your case?"

"They're looking into something." He refused to call them 'his team'. He was constantly wishing that Lily would get a move on so things could go back to normal.

"Anything –"

BOOM

Gibbs reacted instantly, dropping to the ground, drawing his gun and looking everywhere. He thought it might have come from the level below. "Get out of here," he hissed at Vance.

The Director responded by drawing his gun. Together they made their way to the next level.

One car was alight. Presumably it had been the bomb.

"Be careful," Gibbs cautioned. "There may be more."

Vance had frozen in place. "That's _my _car."

'_I _knew_ it was going to get worse_,' thought Gibbs.

"That's my car," Vance repeated, still in shock.

"I need to get you out of here," warned Gibbs. "It could have been an attempt on your life."

Vance's entire demeanor seemed to change in the blink of an eye. "That's my car," he roared.

Gibbs resolved to kill Lily when he next saw her. Or give her a medal. He wasn't sure which.

"I want you to _crucify_ the bastard who did this," Vance ordered Gibbs before leaving.

* * *

"Psst. Abby?"

The Goth spun around. "McGee!" she cried. "Where are you?"

"Shh. Is anyone there? Are you busy?" He was keeping his voice down and staying out of sight.

"No, and nothing that can't wait," she whispered back.

He appeared in the doorway, looking nervous.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"Crazy CIA agents," he informed her solemnly.

"OK McGee," she reverted to her usual tone. "You've lost it this time."

"No," he denied. "I hacked the CIA again and I was searching for Operation Lazarus."

"Did you find anything?"

"No." He moved towards her office; she caught his arm.

"Where are you going? You should be helping Gibbs, not giving up."

"I don't want us to be overheard," he admitted.

She followed him into the smaller room before closing the door behind them. "Speak."

"Absolutely nothing on Lazarus. I guess they're so paranoid about someone finding out what's going on that they haven't put anything on the system." He sat down while she pulled up a chair for herself.

"I found something." She sounded so proud that McGee relaxed.

"So have I."

"You just said you didn't find anything!"

"On Lazarus," he reminded her.

"Can I go first? Please?"

McGee smiled at her enthusiasm. "Sure."

"OK. To begin with, I compared the crime scene pictures in the file to those on the system. There are a few differences. Almost un-noticeable." She pulled a file out from a pile, and started to spread pictures over her desk. "There's a slight blood void here," she indicated, "and another one here, both of which don't exist in the computer system. Someone else _was_ in that diner, and they erased themselves."

"The CIA."

She lightly punched his arm. "Rule Eight: Never take anything for granted."

"Ow. OK, not necessarily the CIA, but Tony would bet on it."

They paused for a moment, thinking about their friend.

"Back on topic, McGee. I asked Cynthia to give me something that should have Jenny's prints on it. She'll bring it down when she has a few minutes. Then I can see whether the prints in the system really belong to Jenny. What did you find?"

"Our Jane Doe."

"Really?! I thought Gibbs was going mad."

"Me too. Ow!" he cried as she punched him again.

"Our fearless leader will never go mad."

"But you just said…" he protested.

She glared at him.

He sighed. "UCLA has records for a patient named Rebecca Kain. She has the early symptoms of Duchenne muscular dystrophy, which creates an overabundance of creatine kinase."

"That's what Ducky had me test for!" Abby squealed. "Of course, it's not a good thing to have, but –"

"Please Abs?"

"What?"

"Can I finish?"

"Oops. Sorry."

He smiled at her again. "She missed an appointment yesterday. I accessed the DMV; she could easily pass for Jenny if she dyed her hair."

Abby frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"If this…"

"Rebecca," he prompted.

"Dyed her hair, did she know she was going to die?"

"Dye?"

"Delta Indigo Echo, McGee. Keep up."

"You mean, was it a form of suicide? I don't know."

"But what if it wasn't? What if someone murdered her so we would think Jenny was murdered?"

"That's not good."

"You don't get it! Ducky would have realized that our Jane Doe had DMD during the autopsy. Noticeable symptoms. If he couldn't find a record of Jenny being tested or diagnosed, he would have started to question everything."

"Yes…" He wasn't sure where she was going with this.

"So Jenny made sure he knew that she was ill."

"Yes…"

"But that means that Jenny must have known in advance."

"Faking your own death takes some planning, Abs."

"Rebecca must have been chosen in advance! Someone decided to murder her to fake a death _in advance_! Months in advance."

"I know that's bad but –"

"Jenny knew! She must have known about this murder. It's not very…"

"Jenny-like," he suggested, now as perturbed as she was.

"And she pretended to be ill."

"Again, not very Jenny-like."

They looked at each other, both confused and concerned. What exactly was going on?

* * *

Gibbs sat in the squad room, sipping his coffee, observing his new agents. Koppi was on the phone with Legal, trying to secure a warrant for the Petty Officer's Cayman bank accounts. Hughes was researching the dead men's lives, from birth to death. Richards was painting her nails…

'_Oh well_', thought Gibbs as he took another sip. '_Two out of three ain't bad_.'

He knew that no one could ever replace his previous team, and Lily was going to get them back as soon as she had worked through whatever peculiar plan she had for dealing with Vance. Although he might have to hurry her up if he was starting to accept this… rabble.

They were supposed to be investigating two cases at once, when clearly they were having problems with just one. The Director had made it very apparent that the car bomb was the first priority, but Gibbs wasn't bothered. He knew who had done it and he knew that there was no chance it was going to end soon. Part of him wanted to know what she was going to try next, while another part of him wanted to be surprised.

She'd always kept him on his toes. Both Lily and Jenny. It was almost impossible to guess what they were going to do next. Once, when they were in Europe, Lily had scammed Jenny into leaving the hotel room for a few hours and then interrogated him on his intentions. It had made him dread meeting the rest of her family. It had taken years to discover that everyone else was dead. Lily was overprotective…

So why hadn't she helped Jenny when she most needed it? And why wasn't she blaming herself for Jenny's death?

The only solution he could think of was that Jenny wasn't dead.

He wondered if it was wishful thinking.

"Yes!"

A cry from Koppi broke his concentration. "What?" he called.

"Warrant just came through. The Cayman records are being emailing as we speak."

"Put them on the plasma." If McGee were still working for him, he would have had them hours ago. McGee would have worked tirelessly since Gibbs had been tipped off.

"It looks like some serious money," Hughes noted, looking up from his screen.

"Where did it come from?" Gibbs queried, not in the mood.

"I think," offered Hughes, "they might have been selling secrets."

"Why do you think that?"

"Not secrets, per se, but classified information."

Gibbs glared at his agent.

"They were under investigation?" he tried.

"By whom?" He didn't ask why it had taken so long to find this out. He wasn't keeping this lot.

"JAG"

"Koppi," he ordered. "Call JAG and tell them we need the file. Hughes, Richards, start working on the car bomb investigation."

"Where are you going?" questioned Hughes.

"Abby. Forensic report," Gibbs told him.

"Wow," Richards finally noticed what was going on. "That's a lot of money."


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N Thanks again to Kristen, especially as I have just sent her the entire sequel to this story in one go. Sorry about that!_

_Thanks to PierceMD for the tips, and I should point out that DMD is being used with a lot of creative license._

_Aserene - I am tempted to fulfill your request with a oneshot. Might take me a little while to get round to it though. _

Chapter 8

Vance did not turn around when Gibbs entered his office. The view of the Navy Yard was keeping his temper in check. Someone had put a dead pig on his desk the previous day. He suspected that the forensics girl – was it Abby? – had had something to do with it. Not many people could alter security tapes with such skill that the FBI's finest experts were unable to restore them.

Then, that very morning, someone had blown up his car! His beloved Dodge Viper! He had only bought it the previous month. On top of that, there seemed to be a problem with his insurance. When he had called them an hour ago, they had told him that he wasn't covered for car bombs and he would have to continue to pay the loan. He had argued that the car had been parked in a very secure location, but to no avail.

As if that wasn't enough, Ziva David had still not appeared and Mossad was breathing down his collar. They seemed to think that he was sheltering her. He had been receiving several angry calls every day from her father, who just happened to be the Director of Mossad, demanding her return immediately. And then there was the missing file…

With great difficulty, Vance pulled himself back to the present – Gibbs, in his office. He turned around to face his visitor.

"Update me, Agent Gibbs," he ordered.

"No unauthorized personnel entered the Navy Yard to the best knowledge of the Marines on duty, although it is possible that someone could have snuck in."

"Nobody snuck in," he insisted. He was certain that someone who worked in the building was perpetrating these pranks, if you could call them pranks. He thought it would be almost impossible for an outsider to break into the Yard on two separate occasions. Which left…

"The FBI has given up examining the security footage of the first incident." Gibbs was being very careful with his phrasing. Jenny had once told him that the longer, more eloquent phrases you used, the more you could hide within them. He was determined to make her proud; he certainly did not want Vance to realize what he had already worked out. He had also decided not to push any of Vance's buttons for the time being; Lily was doing a fine job on her own.

"Anything on the second?" This time Vance had not waited for Abby to find nothing. He had ordered the tapes be sent directly to the FBI, while Abby was given the remains of his car.

"They told me that they haven't found anything yet."

"Have you got a list of people who were in the Yard at the time of the… explosion?" It hurt him to say the word.

"Yes, but it is difficult to know when exactly the bomb was placed. Abby thinks it could have taken less than 30 seconds to place, which means that someone could have done it on their way in."

"Did she find out how it was set off?"

"She is certain that a remote control was used. Whoever it was waited until they were a safe distance away before activating it."

Vance ruled Gibbs off his list of suspects. The Marine would have made sure that he was nowhere near it if he was the perpetrator. "Did she work out a distance for the remote?"

"She approximates a radius of a kilometer."

"A kilometer?! So they could have been _outside_ the gates?"

"Possibly. My team is running down a list of anyone who could have been in the parking garage between you parking your car and the explosion. Unfortunately it has over a hundred names on it, and includes almost everyone in this building. Without further evidence, it's going to be hard to proceed."

Vance tamped his anger down again. _Anyone_ in the building? "Have you thought about someone attaching the bomb before I entered the Yard?"

"The possibility had crossed my mind, although surely the Marines would have noticed it when you drove in?"

"I ordered them to stop checking my car. It takes up too much time, and I always parked it securely. I didn't see how anyone could plant a bomb."

"We will have to expand the list. I'll get my team to start going over your case files, search for anyone with a grudge."

"Is Abby incapable of tracing the explosives?"

"She's working on it." He did not mention that he'd told her to take her time. He didn't know where Lily had gotten the explosives, but the longer it took to identify them, the longer she had to hide the trail.

"Did you see anyone acting suspiciously while you were sitting in your car?"

"I did not, although I wasn't focusing on events occurring around me. I recall hearing people walking through the garage, but I couldn't tell you who they were because I simply wasn't paying them much attention."

Vance paused, considering if he had left anything out. "Were there any reports of suspicious activity by the main gate?"

"No, which was one of the reasons I hadn't immediately started looking through your old cases. I'll ask the Marines again, but I doubt I'll get anything different."

Vance thought that was everything. "Your other case?"

"It's going very slowly. Apparently JAG was investigating them, so we have to wait for the file to be sent over."

The Director reflected. His agent had given a good, concise account of what was happening. Perhaps Gibbs was learning his place. "In that case, I won't keep you any longer."

Gibbs gave a tight smile and walked out. Overall, he thought that had gone rather well.

* * *

Gibbs strode into the lab a few hours later, obligatory Caf-Pow in hand. He wondered how many times he had entered expecting results, and how many times he would continue to do so. Part of him hoped that some things would never change.

"Abs?" he called, not seeing her.

"Gibbs!" She came flying out of her office and hugged him tightly. He struggled to breathe. Just as abruptly, she let go of him and grabbed her drink, before bouncing over to her computer.

"Jethro. How nice to see you." Ducky seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, though Gibbs suspected he had come out of Abby's office while he was being strangled.

"Duck," he greeted his friend. "What are you doing up here?"

The doctor frowned. "Abigail told me your… theory."

He glared at her.

"Sorry, my silver haired fox. He asked why I was examining the crime scene photos from the diner. I couldn't lie to him."

"It's okay Abs," he reassured her.

"It's not okay," Ducky told him. "You're looking for something that isn't there."

"But Duckman, we've found things already!" she protested.

"We?" he inquired.

"McGee and I," she admitted.

Ducky turned back to Gibbs. "You need to accept that she's gone and move on."

"What if she's not dead?" Gibbs asked.

"It's perfectly normal to look for a way out in these kinds of situations! People think that they see a loved one walking down the street, or they think they hear their voice."

"I can tell the difference between them."

"I'm not saying that, I'm saying that you are in denial. You need to accept that she's gone."

"I'm not sure that she is."

Ducky sighed. "She's playing you."

"She's _trying_ to play us."

"When you say 'trying'…"

"She slipped up. She was exhausted and stressed, and when placed in a position where she could relax for a moment she slipped up."

"I highly doubt that she's capable of slipping up, but go on then. What did she say?"

"She said that she murdered someone in cold blood on the same day that Jenny died. She never uses the word 'murder'; she always says 'killed'."

"Semantics," Ducky told him.

"No, Jenny explained it once. Something about murderers being sent to prison, but killing someone wasn't the same thing."

"That makes no sense, Jethro."

"It made sense at the time! If she kills someone, she does it in the course of her duties. If she murders someone, it's personal."

"How much had you had to drink?"

Gibbs thought for a moment. Abby was watching the exchange, but keeping quiet for once. He tried something different. "Why didn't Jenny call Li – her?"

"Perhaps her phone was switched off?"

"Her phone is never switched off. The only time it ever has been was after Jenny died."

"So Jenny called but couldn't reach her."

"Jenny had a whole list of numbers for her. I saw them once; she told me she had them memorized."

"Perhaps she couldn't get there in time?"

Gibbs laughed bitterly. "She would have dropped everything and raced out there. If she really couldn't make it, she would have called in every possible favor and sent half the CIA instead!"

"Jenny died to protect you. You feel guilty for that."

"She could have protected me better by asking her to keep an eye on me."

"Maybe she felt that she could handle it on her own. Maybe she didn't want to live. She was ill, Jethro."

"She would have called, got back-up. If she didn't want to live, she would have asked Li – her to kill her."

"Perhaps she refused to do it."

"Abby."

The Goth jumped. "Yes, oh great one?"

"Whatever Jenny had, is it genetic?"

"Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy and it is definitely genetic."

"How do you know what she had?" Ducky asked, confused. He hadn't told anyone, and neither had Jenny.

"We found someone who could pass for Jenny who had it," Abby confessed.

"Duck, if one of them had it, the other should have it. Correct?"

"Correct," Ducky confirmed.

"Why not a murder suicide then? If Jenny was ill…"

"The other?" Abby interrupted.

Ducky ignored her. "She could have strong beliefs against suicide."

"She's CIA," Gibbs pointed out. "She told me once that she'd rather kill herself than be captured alive. Did you take blood or were you given blood?"

Ducky tried to remember. "I took it."

"Are you one hundred percent sure that you took it from Jenny? She's exceptional at sleight of hand. If you took it from her and took your eyes off her for a fraction of a second, she could have switched vials."

"Jethro," Ducky finally lost his patience again. "You are looking for something that _isn't there_. No matter how hard you search, she is dead. She's not coming back." He walked out of the room.

"Abs?" Gibbs queried. "Tell McGee he needs to hack the CIA again. There's a small medical wing somewhere inside. I want to know everyone who's in there."

* * *

Cynthia sat at her desk, her mind whirring. For once, she had no paperwork to do, but that didn't slow her thoughts.

She disliked Vance. He liked being in control all the time. His toothpick habit was beginning to get on her nerves. She was constantly finding used ones everywhere, and he seemed to send her out at least twice a day to locate more.

He was also getting very aggressive about a missing file – Jenny's file. He seemed to think that someone had moved it. At first, she had presumed that it had been misfiled. When Vance had not let up, she had stayed the entire night and checked every file in the cabinet. She had been exhausted the next day but he hadn't appreciated it. She had checked every file on her desk, she had asked everyone if they might have seen it, she had even searched her own apartment, on the off chance she might have taken it home with some other files.

Nothing.

The file had vanished.

Jenny's file.

Jenny.

She missed her. The two of them had been friends; they had shared secrets, secrets that Cynthia knew she would take to her grave. Jenny had once mentioned a sister, after a huge bouquet of flowers had arrived on her birthday without a card. Cynthia had been curious as to who would send lilies as a birthday gift; Jenny had explained that it was an old joke between them. She was fairly sure that no one else at NCIS knew about this sister, and she was not going to tell anyone. She had wondered if she would ever meet her, but with Jenny gone…

She jumped as the phone in front of her rang. Gingerly she lifted the receiver. "NCIS. Director Vance's office."

She listened in growing disbelief to the voice on the other end of the line. "Sure. I'll tell him."

Anxiously, she rose from her chair and crept towards the door. She raised her hand to knock…

"Is he in, Cynthia?"

She jumped what felt like a foot. "Agent Gibbs!"

"Yes?" He smiled kindly at her.

"You surprised me." That was another thing she missed, Gibbs marching straight past her as though she wasn't there. He'd been very thoughtful recently, bringing her a coffee every morning and checking that she was OK.

"Is he in?" he repeated.

"Yes, but I need to tell him something very important."

"And this changes whether he is in or not?"

"No, but… I don't think he'll be in for much longer."

The door behind her opened suddenly, and for the third time in five minutes, Cynthia jumped again.

"Am I late for this party?" Vance inquired.

"Sir, I just got a call. Your wife was kidnapped."

"What?!" He looked stunned.

"Apparently she was at a family gathering in San Diego when three masked gunmen abducted her. The FBI is on the scene; they're getting descriptions as we speak." Cynthia raced through her explanation, not wanting to be around for the reaction.

She didn't get her wish. "You're fired," Vance told her.

"What?!" Now she was as shocked as he had been a moment earlier.

"You can't locate a simple file. You probably stole it. You're fired. Get out of here."

He stormed past them both, not lingering to see their reactions.

"Cynthia?" Gibbs asked softly. "Are you OK?"

"Can… can he do that?"

"He's the Director; he can do what he likes." Gibbs guided her to her chair – her old chair she reminded herself. "Is there someone I can call? Make sure you get home safely?"

She was still in shock. "But I… but I…"

Gibbs decided to help her. "Hey, look at me." He waited until she did what he said. "A friend of mine has promised to get my team back together. I'm absolutely certain that she's the one doing these things to him, and she wants him out of here. When that happens, I'm going to ask her to get you your job back. OK?"

She looked at him, tears welling up in her eyes. "You can do that?"

He smiled. "_She_ can do that."

She smiled back at him. "Then I need to pack."


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks to Kristen - I hope your finals go well!_

Chapter 9

The lab was strangely quiet. It was early evening and most of the building had gone home. But that wasn't the case for the two people sitting by the computer.

"McGee, how much longer is this going to take?" Abby whined.

"It's not my fault," he shot back.

"How can it not be your fault?"

"They've changed something, I don't get it!"

McGee glanced over at her. The Director had been in a foul mood earlier and removed the Caf-Pow machine. Abby was suffering from caffeine withdrawal, which had led to him promising to get her a drink after he had finished his current job.

It was taking a lot longer than he had expected. On a normal day, he could get inside the CIA mainframe in less than 30 minutes. Searching for something inside that usually took about another 30 minutes. Today, they had changed the settings, almost as if they knew he was coming. It had taken him three hours to get inside, and he was still hunting for his prey.

In her caffeine-withdrawal frustration, Abby had put her hair back into her usual pigtails. She hadn't turned the music back on because she had discovered a memo asking agents to inform Vance if they heard any music coming from the lab. The Goth was working on a way to send another memo around asking everyone to inform the SecNav if Vance was seen chewing a toothpick. She didn't want to be caught and fired while Gibbs was plotting his revenge, but that didn't mean she had to suffer in the meantime.

"YES!" McGee cried.

"Found something?" came Gibbs' voice right behind him.

"Erm… yes boss."

"Good."

"Gibbs," whimpered Abby. "Where's my Caf-Pow?"

He smiled and produced one from behind his back.

She beamed as she snatched it and started guzzling.

Gibbs squashed the urge to laugh. "McGee."

"Boss?"

"Why didn't you get Abby her drink?"

"I was going to…" he started to protest before realizing he could never win the argument. "I'm inside the medical wing."

"Patients?"

"Erm…" He turned back to the computer and began searching. "No names," he observed, "But it says what they're in for."

"List 'em," Gibbs ordered.

"Gunshot wound… gunshot wounds… poisoning… radiation sickness…"

"Jenny could be any of the gunshot victims," he mused.

"… Ebola… that's odd."

Abby punched his arm. "You're right. Who has Ebola in the CIA?"

"Not that," he corrected. "This. Adverse drug reaction."

"Timmy, that just means that they gave someone the wrong drugs."

"Do they normally give people tetrodotoxin?"

"Whoa. You're kidding?"

"English," Gibbs interrupted.

"It's the most powerful nerve poison known to man," Abby told him.

"It comes from puffer fish," McGee added. "If you can get a precise dose, it brings all the signs of death. The victim remains conscious throughout but paralyzed."

"I never knew that," Abby grinned.

"It's incredibly difficult to get a precise dose though. Different fish produce different amounts in different seasons. If you get it slightly out, you'd kill the person instead of paralyzing them."

"You could fake someone's death with this?" Gibbs asked.

"There have been cases where people woke up at their own funerals."

"Hinky." Abby looked as though all her dreams had come true. "Imagine, you hear your relatives arguing over your coffin before you wake up and –"

"Not now Abs," Gibbs ordered. "If you could get the dosage right, it would work?"

"Imagine getting autopsied." Abby was off in her own world.

"The bodies would need to be switched to prevent Ducky autopsying a live person… but he wouldn't notice small differences after 30 hours of decomposition! That's why Rebecca Kain was picked! Someone knew what happened in the diner and killed her in the same way…" McGee trailed off.

Suddenly Gibbs hit himself on the back of the head.

"Hey, bossman," Abby looked worried.

"She slipped up twice and I didn't notice!" he growled. "In the bar, she was upset because she killed someone she didn't have to!"

"This is Li- again?" Abby tried to make him slip up.

"She told Ducky she was ill, she supplied the scans and the blood. Jenny went along with it because she didn't know what was going on. How could I have been so stupid?!" He was on a roll.

"Who told Ducky she was ill?" inquired McGee.

Gibbs stopped abruptly and turned to them. "Fingerprints."

"What?" McGee was still confused.

Abby followed his train of thought. "Before Cynthia was fired, she bought me a bottle of Jenny's bourbon. The fingerprints I lifted from there do not match our Jane Doe."

"And when you ran the fingerprints through AFIS?" Gibbs asked.

"No match. But I matched the thumbprint of Jane Doe to the thumbprint on Rebecca Kain's driving license."

"They were both in the diner," Gibbs theorized. "Mike didn't see one of them. He went out, the gunmen went in. Four against two. Jenny's given the drug; Mike finds her and presumes she's dead."

"And the bodies were switched at the airport," Abby finished for him.

"Jenny recovers out of sight. Vance is given the opportunity to hang himself. All is right with the world."

"Who comes up with such a complicated scheme?" McGee wondered. "And who's the other player?"

"Someone who needs everyone to believe that Jenny's dead," Gibbs told him. "I need to get inside that medical wing."

NCISNCISNCIS

Vance paced up and down his office, thinking furiously. At first, he had thought that the 'tricks' were being played on him by a disgruntled employee. Anyone in the Naval Yard could have put the pig on his desk, although clearly someone with expert computer knowledge was involved to wipe the tapes. Moreover, the same applied for the car bomb. Any person in the building could have planted it. On some level, he could understand it. Their previous Director was dead and he was the replacement.

But now… now it was clear that something bigger was going on. He couldn't see how someone in the Naval Yard could have orchestrated his wife's kidnapping in San Diego. There was a field office there, but he was well liked. He had been congratulated on his promotion, even under the circumstances, but everyone in Washington seemed to be wary of him.

He supposed it had something to do with his dissolution of the most popular team. Surely, if he could split them up, he could split anyone up.

It had been a necessary task though. Loyalty needed to be to the agency, not to their leader. DiNozzo and David had completely failed at protecting their mark, leaving him to sort out the mess. It was a pity that they hadn't tailed her…

He wondered briefly if the two agents knew where the missing file was. Although, he reasoned, if they had known about it they would have used it by now.

Damn her! Jennifer Shepard had to make things difficult, take precautions. He was surprised that she hadn't told her former lover, but it appeared they had been keeping secrets. Had she told someone else then? Someone else who was toying with him? Whoever was after him seemed to know his weak spots; his car, his wife, and could seemingly cause havoc in both DC and San Diego.

The door crashed open and Vance stopped pacing. "Agent Gibbs! Jenny may have tolerated your blatant insubordination but I won't."

"Director," Gibbs spoke, totally ignoring his outburst. "They found your wife."

"Is she OK?" he inquired, his entire manner changing in an instant.

"She's fine. She's been taken to the hospital."

"What's she doing at the hospital if she's fine?"

"They just want to check her over. She doesn't seem to remember anything," the older man told him. "She was found wandering outside our San Diego field office about half an hour ago."

"Why didn't they –"

"They wanted to double check that it was her before they called you."

"Do they have any idea –"

"Someone suggested that chloroform was used, which would explain why she can't remember anything. They've taken blood and are running a tox screen now."

Vance sat down, having run out of things to ask. He still didn't think that Gibbs had anything to do with these events. He was plainly trying to calm him down, and if Gibbs really did have anything on him, he didn't think he'd last a day.

"Once the doctors have examined her, they're going to give her a phone to call you," Gibbs offered. He might approve of Lily's desire to get Vance, but not to the extent of her harming his wife. He suspected that the wife was unhurt.

Vance felt the fury bubbling up inside him. "This is war," he announced. "Whoever is behind this, I'm going to kill them myself."

"I understand what you're going through – " Gibbs tried to say, but Vance was having none of it.

"How can you understand what I'm going through? Someone ever make you feel like a bug, like someone to be squashed at will? Like a toy, to be played with? Discarded of when finished?"

Gibbs disregarded the rant. "Perhaps you're over-reacting."

Vance stared at him as though he'd grown another head. "Over-reacting? _Over-reacting_?! Someone kidnapped my _wife_ and _I'm_ over-reacting?"

"Declaring war on somebody? We've got no idea who did this, no evidence, and no proof that these events are even related."

"Find some then. Prove it. Let me gut the bastard behind this."

Gibbs observed him for a moment. "Working on it."

"Go. You have 24 hours. If you can't give me results by then, you're fired."


	10. Chapter 10

_Thanks again to Kristen. I really need to start writing again... The end is officially in sight! Two more chapters to go after this!_

Chapter 10

Gibbs took a moment to get his bearings. The place seemed deserted, and anyone still working in the dead of night would hopefully be too busy to notice an intruder. That didn't mean that the Marine wasn't cautious.

McGee and Abby had managed to create a fictitious badge to get him inside the CIA. It had taken them a number of hours, a lot of arguments and several Caf-Pows. As well as the badge, McGee had worked out the quickest route from the main entrance to the hospital wing. Gibbs had refused to take the map that had been printed, pointing out that Marines didn't require maps.

He had been adamant to get inside for one reason – to see for himself that Jenny was still alive. Although his gut was now telling him that he had worked out the truth, it had been wrong initially and he knew of only one person who had ever done that before.

Lily.

Which meant that she could still be up to something.

She loved misdirection, whether it was sleight of hand or mind games. Her way of going after Vance was one long mind game, and one thing Gibbs had learned the hard way was that it was incredibly difficult to know when the game was over. She could still have more tricks up her sleeve.

This was why he had broken in, to see Jenny with his own eyes. It was entirely possible that Lily's game involved creating a belief that Jenny was alive, for either him or Vance to deal with. But, as far as he could work out, both of them were alive; Lily wouldn't have let Jenny die in the way she did.

Or if she had, she would have gone rogue.

Gibbs glanced around again, and realized that the hospital wing he was searching for was down the next corridor. He set off, careful to appear to know where he was. It wouldn't do to get this far and be caught.

The hall looked like every other hospital corridor he'd ever been in. White walls, clean, tiled floor. He peered at the first door he reached. A medical chart was pinned to it, no names attached. He knew that most people here were CIA agents who, for various reasons, couldn't go to another hospital.

The chart wasn't for Jenny, unless she had been around a rather large amount of radiation since he'd last seen her. Reminding himself what he was looking for, he went to the next door… and the next one… and the next one… and the next –

"Gibbs."

He nearly jumped out of his skin. He whirled around and spotted the Israeli leaning calmly against the wall, two mugs of coffee in her hands.

"Coffee?" she inquired, holding one out to him.

He took it warily. "Nice to see you too, Ziva."

"Everything okay?"

"Where is she?" He didn't care about the small talk.

"Who?"

He glared at her.

"I have been fine, by the way."

"Jenny. I'm looking for Jenny."

"She is dead."

"She's here."

Ziva glanced down the hall, in the direction he hadn't been yet.

"I need to see her."

She pushed off the wall. "Not going to happen. Want to sit down before I call security?"

"Ziva –"

"If I do not call them, I shall be removed too. Same reason that I did not try to contact you."

He sighed. "Lead on."

She led him to a small kitchen with a few chairs. She shrugged by way of apology. "Best there is, under the circumstances."

"You okay?"

"I have not been outside since I was picked up at the airport. I have not seen the sun since I was driven here."

"The wing's underground," he offered.

"I guessed. No windows. I have only had a few nurses for company, and the doctors when they are here."

"And Jenny."

Ziva chuckled, but didn't reply.

"You've stopped denying that she's here," he pointed out.

"And Jenny," she agreed.

Gibbs leant back in his seat. To hear confirmation was wonderful. And at the same time, he wanted to kill Lily.

"She is doing well," Ziva told him. "How is everyone your end holding up?"

He mentally shook himself. "Vance is being a first class pain in the butt."

"So I have heard."

"You met Lily?" He was surprised, certain that Mossad was unaware of her existence and knowing Lily wanted to keep it that way.

"Only once. She picked me up at the airport. I refused to go with her until she explained who she was. What about Tony, Abby, McGee and Ducky?"

"Tony… still seems to be blaming himself. Abby hates Vance, McGee seems okay, and Ducky can adapt to just about anything."

She closed her eyes briefly.

"She hasn't been down here?" he asked.

"Who?"

"Lily."

"She calls Jenny every day. I think she is asking about take-out options."

"Lily's asking Jenny's opinion or vica versa?"

"Jenny's opinion. I cannot figure out why –"

"So _that's _who's been sending me food."

"Okay…"

"I've been finding food on my doorstep for the past few weeks," he explained. "I wondered who was doing that."

She looked at her watch in response. "You need to go."

"I've just got here."

"The doctors will begin their rounds shortly. If they find you, they will remove both of us."

"I'm not leaving until I've seen Jenny," he insisted.

"She is fine. She is recovering well. I do not know what is going on, but Jenny is okay."

He stood up. "I need to see her."

She stood up as well. "I am only here because Lily thought it would be nice for Jenny to have some company. I do not want to be removed, and I doubt that you would want her to be left on her own."

He considered her point of view. "Jenny has a phone?"

"Yes."

"Please tell her to call me. And I can tell the difference between them."

"Even on the phone? I had enough trouble spotting differences in the flesh."

"Jenny's slightly smaller, about a quarter of an inch. Lily's eyes are more guarded. Voices are harder, but there is a difference."

She nodded. "You need to leave _now_."

So close and yet so far; he didn't want to go, but he didn't want Jenny left on her own either. "Fine," he agreed.

"Thank you. Please tell the others that I am okay."

He smiled. "I will. Which is the best way out of here?"

* * *

The squad room was full of the little sounds that everyone recognized – the low hum of computers, the snatches of conversation between agents, the rustling of papers being shifted constantly.

Occasionally there were other sounds – the curses of an agent who spilled his coffee, the creak of a chair… Gibbs' snores.

Agent Hughes stood over him, puzzled. "Should I wake him up?" he asked his co-workers.

"No way," replied Koppi. "He'll hit your head."

"We should be working."

"We can work without him."

"But I've got something."

"So?"

"Wonder why he's tired."

"Probably with some chick last night."

Richards looked up from her mirror. "Him? He's ancient and grumpy. Who'd date him?"

"What if he had money?" inquired Koppi.

"He doesn't."

"That you know of. Would you date him if he had money?"

"Of course." She looked offended at the idea that she wouldn't.

Hughes noticed McGee walking past. "Hey."

"Can't stop," McGee told him. "Got to deliver the Yamani file to Agent Balboa."

"How do we wake him up?"

McGee was surprised. "You actually… _want _him to wake up?"

"I found something."

McGee glanced around, before snatching a coffee cup from Koppi's desk and waving it under his former boss' nose.

Gibbs woke up with a start.

"Works every time," McGee noted, continuing on his way.

Gibbs downed the coffee in one go. Then he glared at his agent.

"I've found something," Hughes reported.

He got another glare in response.

"JAG couldn't figure out who the Petty Officers were selling the information to."

"And you have?" Gibbs asked.

"No. But looking at the money they were getting, they were probably selling it to someone _else_ who was selling information."

"A chain," surmised Gibbs.

"Yes. They sell their information to someone, almost certainly in this country, who sells it to someone else. The next guy might have several people selling to him."

"And you woke me up for that."

"I think the killer was someone in law enforcement."

Gibbs sat up straight. "Why?"

"Think about it. The Petty Officers both went to the motel room at the same time. Therefore, they were there to sell information. Someone kills them before they can pass that information on. Logically that would be someone in law enforcement."

"Lots of presumptions."

"Maybe someone who was dissatisfied with the JAG investigation. I've been looking over the files, and it seems they were waiting to catch the bigger fish. If someone wasn't patient, or worked out who the bigger fish was, they could have killed the Petty Officers."

"Someone moved the bodies," Gibbs recalled.

"The bigger fish came along later and searched his contacts for any information they might have had with them?"

Gibbs looked round at the rest of his group. Koppi was following the exchange and nodding in agreement. Richards was reapplying her mascara.

"I miss something out, sir?"

He received yet another glare.

"Not sir."

"Not bad," Gibbs admitted. "Now comes the fun part, investigating JAG. Pull up the files again. What kind of information were the Petty Officers selling?"

Hughes raced back to his seat.

"Low level stuff mostly," Koppi chipped in.

"What kind? Where were they stationed?" Gibbs pushed.

"For the last five months, they were working on joint ops," Hughes said.

"What kind –"

"Classified. I can tell you roughly who was on the team though."

"Who?"

"A couple of other Petty Officers, a Marine Sergeant, a CIA agent –"

"CIA agent have a name?" inquired Gibbs, suddenly very suspicious.

"Erm… no."

"Codename?"

"No."

"Anything?"

"What do you mean by _anything_?"

"Gender, age, time with the company, _anything_."

Hughes paused for a moment. "Everyone else on the team is male, so I'm assuming male."

"I need more than assumptions."

"Ah. An Agent Baker."

"Funny name," Koppi interjected.

Gibbs considered for a moment. Not Lily then. But if she felt that a fellow agent was threatened by the sale of information…

"Did they sell anything on Agent Baker?" he asked.

Hughes frantically leafed through the file. "JAG think they mentioned his existence, which would technically be a crime."

Gibbs groaned.

"Are you alright?" Koppi questioned.

He decided that he really was going to kill her when he next saw her. This was presumably what she had meant by running two ops. She had faked her sister's death and stopped a leak at the same time. In addition, she had probably waited for the bigger fish and killed him too. Although if she had done that, where was the body?

"Sir… not sir, Gibbs?" Koppi was still speaking.

"Don't bother continuing," he told them. "The CIA dealt with them."

"Then why wouldn't the CIA tell us about it?" Hughes asked.

"The CIA aren't supposed to operate on home soil. Doesn't stop them though."

"Right…"

"I'm off for coffee. While I'm gone, work out who kidnapped our new Director's wife."

* * *

Abby cart wheeled around her lab. Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble. Trouble with a capital T. Gibbs had told her to take her time with some analyses, so she had. She had so much work to do, most of it termed 'rush jobs', that being told to leave something on the back burner was a relief. But now…

"Gibbs!" Abby screamed, righting herself as she saw him.

"What's up? I got your 911."

"We have a serious problem," she told him, ignoring the Caf-Pow in his hands.

Gibbs looked around the lab. Everything seemed to be normal. "What's the emergency?"

"I traced the explosives," she told him.

"That doesn't require a 911."

"But it does!"

"Abs, take a deep breath and tell me what is going on."

The Goth obeyed. "The explosives used to blow up Vance's car were the same as the ones used to blow up Tony's car and the other arms dealers."

"We never followed that lead," Gibbs recalled.

"Because we assumed that they were CIA. So the CIA blew up Vance's car."

"We didn't prove it was the CIA though," Gibbs pointed out, trying to work out what was going on. Lily couldn't have been involved in Lodestone; she would have gone after Le Grenouille and left the other arms dealers alone, like Jenny did. Or would she?

"Why would the CIA blow up Vance's car, bossman?"

"Can you find out where the explosives were manufactured, where they might have been sold?"

Abby shrugged her shoulders. "I've been trying to trace them since Tony's car was blown up. No luck. Someone covered their tracks well."

"What about the explosives themselves?"

"Military grade. All serial numbers gone."

"Untraceable then."

"Maybe if you had a whole team working on it, instead of just me in my spare time, you might find a lead. There's nothing more I can do."

"I'll get my team on it right away."

She finally noticed the Caf-Pow and grabbed it. As he turned to go, she caught his arm.

"What, Abs?"

"You going to get him this time?"

"Get who?"

"Whoever tried to kill Tony a year ago? We were so happy for him to be back that we never bothered to investigate."

"We thought it was the CIA," he reminded her softly.

"And now?"

"I want to talk to a contact of mine."

"Li –" she guessed.

"Li –" he confirmed, smiling.

"Can you…"

"Abs?"

"Can you stay for a while? I mean, it's getting very lonely down here. No Tony or Ziva. No Jenny. McGee tries, but he has to work too. I can't put any music on and it's so quiet."

She looked so upset that Gibbs agreed against his better judgment. "Just let me call my team," he promised.

She cheered up instantly, guzzled her drink and turned back to her 'babies'.

Gibbs made the call in the corner of the room, so as not to disturb her, before pulling up a chair beside her. "What do you want to talk about?" he asked.

"Heard any good gossip lately?"

"I heard from Ziva."

She squealed. "Is she okay, where is she, how is she doing, why didn't she go home, why can't Vance find her, how –"

Gibbs put his hands up in surrender. "She's fine. I can't tell you where she is or what she's doing, but she's fine."

"What aren't you telling me?" She waved a scalpel under his nose.

"She was supposed to ask someone to call me," he admitted.

"And she didn't?"

"I don't know if she didn't pass the message along or if the other person didn't call me."

"Jenny," she surmised.

"Jenny."

She squealed again. "She's alive!"

"I don't know for sure, Abs. I didn't see her, I didn't talk to her."

"So she might not be alive."

"I think she is, but I'm not going to be certain unless I can talk to her."

Abby didn't reply as her mass spectrometer dinged. She rushed over and checked the results, before making notes for the agents concerned.

Gibbs watched her as she flew effortlessly around the lab. She was clearly at home with everything. He laughed as she tried to coax her centrifuge to go faster. "It's not going to work."

She glared at him. "It does."

He shook his head, and realized that he needed to change the topic. "Have you heard any good gossip?" He didn't really care, but knew it would please her.

"Let's see… you know about Vance, Roberts is pregnant again, Wofford pulled a child from a burning building –"

"What do I know about Vance?" he interrupted.

"His hotel room?"

He looked blankly at her.

"You don't know! Someone burnt his hotel down. They think it started in his room. Arson. It reached 1000 degrees. He was lucky not to be in it at the time."

"When was this?" He couldn't believe that he hadn't heard about it.

"Last night. After you left to go break into the CIA. It was all over the news this morning. Vance has been stalking round like a lunatic. How could you have missed this?"

"I was tired," he confessed. "I haven't been sleeping well. I got back from the CIA and went to sleep in the squad room."

She hugged him tightly. "Poor Gibbs."

"Can't breathe," he warned her.

She let go. He reached for his phone.

"Guess I'm going back through the numbers again," he told her.


	11. Chapter 11

_Yet more praise for my beta, Kristen. Hope the finals went well! To everyone else, one more chapter after this... Hope that you are enjoying it!_

Chapter 11

Gibbs observed as Abby briefed his agents in the squad room. Koppi and Hughes were fascinated by her, both paying attention and making notes. Richards had looked up at first, before returning to filing her nails.

Abby was practically bouncing around, informing the interested agents how she had matched the explosives used to destroy Vance's car to the ones used on Tony's. Per their agreement, she hadn't mentioned the CIA, only declaring that their chief suspect was no longer a suspect. Privately, Gibbs wasn't convinced of that, but he didn't know if the CIA passed explosives round, if two operations had used the same supplier, or if Lily had really been involved in both. So far, the explosives were the only common denominator. Which meant that tracing them was urgent.

"Any questions?" Abby queried.

"Is that tat real?" asked Richards without looking up.

"I have more."

Richards shuddered; Abby grinned.

"Ms. Scuito."

The team looked around to see Vance standing in their midst.

He appeared to be a broken man. His suit was rumpled, as though he'd slept in it, which – considered Gibbs – he probably had. He was chewing rather frantically on a toothpick. His face was lined with stress, and anger too. There was a faint smell of smoke in the air.

"Director." She snapped to attention and saluted.

"You're fired."

The whole squad room fell silent instantly. Gibbs glared at Vance. Abby looked horrified.

"How can I be fired? What did I do?"

"You're useless. You can't find anything on security tapes. You can't trace explosives. You have been willfully transgressing the dress code. You sent a memo around asking people to inform the SecNav if I was seen chewing a toothpick!" He was shouting by this stage.

"I admit that I sent the memo, but you sent one asking people to inform _you_ if I was playing music! I like my music; I need it to work. The FBI confirmed the tapes were clean. And I have traced the explosives," she protested.

Gibbs stood up, looking murderous. No one went after Abby for a reason.

"Don't start, Agent Gibbs," Vance warned. "You're hiding Jenny's personnel file."

"Don't know what you're talking about Leon," he growled furiously.

"Director, to you. Where is that file?"

"No idea."

"You're fired as well."

"That's a very bad idea, Leon," he threatened, advancing on him.

"Director," he corrected.

"Yes?" came a voice from behind him.

He spun around. Everyone turned to look at the newcomers.

Two men in suits were standing either side of a woman.

A redhead.

Jenny.

Or possibly Lily.

Sometimes telling them apart is impossible, mused Gibbs.

"Y... You... Y..." spluttered Vance.

"You're?" she suggested.

"You're dead," he managed to get out.

"Clearly I'm not."

"But –"

"On that subject though, did you work out who told Natasha where to find me?"

"You died in a house fire," he informed her.

"I was shot at by four men in a diner on the other side of the country but apparently I died in my own home? Who came up with the story of a stupid woman who managed to set fire to her house?"

"Erm…"

"Wouldn't be you by any chance, Leon?"

"You're dead," he tried again.

"No, you tried to kill me. Exceptionally bad idea. A few contacts in the CIA decided I was of more use alive so they faked my death. Seems I wasn't the only one suspicious of you."

"I… I… I don't know what you're talking about." Evidently, he had decided to bluff his way out of the situation.

"You've been selling secrets. I couldn't prove it, but you knew I left my suspicions in your file. You probably shredded the paper."

"Where's your file?"

"Somewhere safe. Here's a hint: it doesn't have a spare copy in it."

"What?!" He looked stunned.

"So what can I charge you with?"

"Hang on –"

"Selling secrets, treason, failure to report a homicide… it was you who moved the Petty Officer's bodies, wasn't it?" She started ticking things off her fingers. "Attempting to have me murdered, destroying evidence and pissing off the CIA."

Vance stayed silent.

Jenny, or possibly Lily, turned to the men behind her. "Take him to Gitmo," she ordered.

"You can't do that," yelled Vance as they approached him.

She glared at him. "You sold something that directly led to the torture and murder of a very good friend of mine. Since the killers were al-Qaeda, I've pulled a few strings. Don't bother appealing, you can't."

The men practically dragged him over to the elevator.

The redhead turned so she was facing the rest of the squad room. "Every decision that was made by Vance is under review," she announced. The place erupted in cheers. She turned back to the team. "Starting with you two. Neither of you have been fired."

Abby ran at her and hugged her, causing the redhead to stagger backwards. "I'm so glad that you're okay," she shrieked. "I need to tell you that you dress really classy and I love your hair a bit longer and –"

"Abs," she gasped. "I need to answer my phone."

"Oops." She let her go, while the redhead reached for her cell.

Gibbs stood next to her and murmured, "Lil?"

"LJ," she hissed back.

Gibbs shook his head.

"Could you ring Cynthia and tell her that she can have her job back?" she asked, making sure that others could hear their exchange.

"Of course," he told her.

"And call the rest of your team. You can have them back."

She finally answered her phone. "Shepard."

"Yes!" Abby shouted. "Tony can come back!"

Lily's face changed to what Gibbs had long ago termed 'damage control mode'. "Where?"

"And Ziva!" Abby continued.

"When?"

"McGee can come back upstairs again!"

"Told you I'm a genius." Lily whirled around and headed towards the stairs.

"Cynthia can come back… Hey, Director. Where are you going?"

Lily ignored her. "Wonderful. Especially as I may have just put my foot in it."

Abby hugged Gibbs tightly. "The team will be back together."

"Nothing major. Well, nothing that will cause a problem now."

Gibbs watched as the redhead disappeared into the stairwell.

"A party!" Abby yelled.

"Not in my ear, please Abs," he begged.

"We need a party, to celebrate the Director not being dead!"

"I think she's going to be a bit busy," he told her.

She was oblivious. "We can have it when the others are back. In your basement so you don't have to leave."

"Abs," he warned her.

She punched his arm. "She just rose from the dead and re-hired you. You're hosting the party."


	12. Chapter 12

_This is it - the final chapter! I think I should start shamelessly plugging the sequel - The Embassy Incident - which I should start uploading in a few days._

_Thanks again to my wonderful beta Kristen. And thanks to everyone who has reviewed or added me to their alerts. A final thanks to everyone who has read this far - please join me again for the sequel!_

Chapter 12

It had been a week since Vance had been taken away. Gibbs' new team had been disbanded, while his old team was sent for. McGee had bought all his belongings back into the squad room within ten minutes, and insisted on being the one to call Tony to tell him his time on the ship was over. DiNozzo's cries of joy could be heard from the catwalk.

Ziva had been the next one back. Three hours after Lily had left, she had walked into the squad room and glared at Agent Richards, who was taking her time to clear her desk. McGee had hugged her until he had realized that hugging an assassin probably wasn't a good idea, but she hadn't minded. She was overjoyed to be back.

Tony had arrived two days later. Abby had been waiting in the squad room and attacked him the moment he stepped off the elevator. After fighting off an ecstatic Goth, he had head-slapped McGee and shot his best smile at Ziva.

Gibbs had never felt so relieved in his life. Everything was back to normal. His team were in one piece and back together. The bickering had started within five minutes, but Gibbs hadn't stopped it, reveling in the noise he had missed.

He had barely seen Jenny, although he was sure that it was she. She'd had a bullet through her left shoulder in the fight, but it was healing well. She had been rushed off her feet with not only the normal work of the agency, but the reviewing of every decision Vance had made. He'd managed to corner her for two minutes in the elevator one morning and apologized for burning her house down. He'd offered to put her up; she had admitted that she was staying at Lily's until she found the time to go house hunting.

True to her word, Abby organized a small party in Gibbs' basement. Abby left the Naval Yard early to decorate the basement with homemade banners, most of which read 'You're alive!'. Tony bought several boxes of pizza to share, Ducky bought the beer, McGee managed to locate enough chairs for everyone and Ziva helped him to move them all down the steps. Jenny had been forbidden from supplying anything, while Gibbs was supplying the basement.

While helping herself to her fourth slice of pizza, Abby started to ask questions. "Why did the CIA fake your death?"

Jenny poured herself some more bourbon. "They owed me a favor."

"But why fake it in the first place?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

Gibbs was following the exchange carefully. He knew that Jenny wouldn't name Lily, but he was curious as to her answer.

Jenny shrugged. "I got a call asking me if I wouldn't mind having my death faked. I was told it was risky, but the other option was an unknown number of gunmen coming after me. It wasn't a hard decision."

"I thought faking your death was Operation Lazarus," McGee joined in.

She turned to him. "I honestly don't know. I never heard an operation name."

"You made us think you were ill," Abby pointed out.

"I deliberately didn't tell you! Only Ducky needed to know," she looked over at the Scotsman, "And I didn't like lying to him but I didn't have a choice."

"You could have read him in," Abby complained.

"The CIA wanted everyone's reactions to be as real as possible, so that nobody would figure it out. I'm sorry Ducky, but they wouldn't let me tell you."

He nodded sagely, knowing that he wasn't being told the whole truth, which couldn't be spoken in front of the team.

"I thought I'd killed you," Tony confessed.

Jenny smiled softly. "Apparently there was someone at the gas station to slit your tires if you needed to be slowed down. And I heard a few plans to Taser you if necessary, although I tried to shoot them down."

"It was a good thing we didn't follow you then," Tony grinned.

"What if we had made it to the diner?" Ziva queried.

"I don't want to know," Jenny shuddered, unsure how far Lily would go to control the mission.

"Why are we worrying about such dark things," Ducky interrupted, "When everyone is well and we have lots of food?"

Abby snagged another beer. "Did everyone hear about Agent Wofford and the child in the burning building?" she asked. "I heard that last year, she gave mouth to mouth to a cat."

McGee was flabbergasted. "Seriously?"

"No."

Everyone burst out laughing.

* * *

A few hours later, when the team and Abby had left, Lily arrived. "Sorry I'm late," she called as she made her way down the steps.

"A couple of minutes earlier and you would have run into Tony," Gibbs warned her.

"I've been sitting outside for hours; I watched him leave," she informed him.

Ducky turned to look at her. "You're still dressing identically I see."

He received two identical glares.

Gibbs nudged him. "One, never _ever_ use the words 'identical' or 'twin'. Two, they don't dress identically."

"But they're wearing –"

"Don't ask."

"But they're –"

"Doctor Mallard," Lily cautioned, "We don't dress identically. We pick our clothes individually; it's not my fault if she chooses to wear the same things as me."

"You are twins though?" He was getting confused.

"Technically. The word makes it sound as though we're the same." She reached the workbench and poured herself a mug of bourbon.

"You are the same," he noted.

"We look the same," she corrected. "But we're different. For example, Jethro isn't my type." She smiled at Gibbs.

"I'm so glad," Gibbs muttered.

Jenny giggled, which she turned into a hacking cough when her sister glared at her.

"Either of you two want to fill me in?" he asked.

They all sat down again. "What do you want to know?" queried Lily.

"Which one of you gave me that vial of blood?" questioned Ducky.

"Me. Sorry. Only person I could pass off as Jenny had DMD, so Jenny needed to have it."

Jenny glared at her sister. "You refused to tell me what was going on! You said Ducky ran a few tests on you and I just had to nod and agree with everything he said!"

"If I told you the truth, would you have gone along with it?"

"Of course not."

"Thought so."

Gibbs interrupted the glaring match. "Why exactly did Vance try to kill Jen?"

Lily grinned. "Got a call one day from my wonderful sister. She thought that Vance was selling secrets but couldn't prove it. I thought I'd mix my current operation with it and bring him down."

"He thought I made a copy of the paper with my suspicions on it," Jenny recalled.

"Because I removed your file. He was on edge anyway, and panicked when he couldn't find it. He started making mistakes. Slightly off topic though; Vance sold Natasha the locations of you two and Agent Decker." She nodded towards Jenny and Gibbs.

"You could have warned Decker," Gibbs pointed out.

Lily disagreed. "Decker wasn't my problem. A contact of mine got wind of what was happening. I found out about the diner and told Jen to make for there."

"How did the gunmen find out?"

"I tipped them off."

"What?!"

"I needed them to show up at the right time! There was a tracker on their car; when they got close, Jen sent that erm…"

"Agent Franks," her sister supplied.

"Agent Franks out for water and we dealt with the gunmen."

"You ran off, killed Rebecca Kain and switched the bodies at the airport," Gibbs finished.

"Not bad," she admitted.

"Operation Lazarus? Was that the plan to fake my death?" Jenny asked.

"No. Lazarus is classified. Can't tell you anything on that. Can't tell you why we faked your death instead of dealing with the gunmen ourselves. I _can _tell you that going after Vance was a side benefit of it. Your McGee's a good hacker though."

"What makes you think it was McGee," Gibbs inquired.

"Last year, when he was snooping round Operation Lodestone, a bot got into your network. We've been keeping an eye on your activities ever since."

"Lodestone," repeated Gibbs. "You got your car bomb explosives from there?"

"No. Found a supplier who offered me a good deal."

"Interesting. The same explosives were used to blow up various arms dealer's cars."

She froze. "You're kidding."

"Nope."

"What's going on?" her sister asked.

Lily recovered quickly. "Classified. I need to sort this out." She almost ran out of the basement.

Jenny and Gibbs shared a look.

"If it's classified, she won't tell me," Jenny reminded him.

Ducky stood up. "I think I'll follow her example and head home," he told them. "Mother will be wondering where I am."

They smiled at him. "Good night, Duck," Gibbs offered.

"Good night, Ducky," Jenny repeated.

* * *

They sat in the basement together, sipping bourbon. The silence between them was comfortable. He observed her as she looked around, searching for any changes made since the last time she had visited.

He was so happy that she was okay. When he had heard of her death, he thought that his heart would break. He never took the chance to tell her how he felt; he assumed that they had forever.

He had been haunted by visions of her when he slept, begging him to save her. Even in the cold light of day, he had seen her in every redhead at every corner. He never thought that anyone would compare to Shannon, but he had been wrong.

* * *

Her eyes darted around the basement, spotting the little things that had changed. A new boat had been started; she wondered what he planned to call it. There were a few empty bottles of bourbon in the corner, tucked out of sight.

She had been worried about him when she had been 'dead'. She was scared as to how he would take it after Franks had talked to her in the diner. She hadn't dared to think that he still cared about her. If she had known, she would have ignored the orders and told him what was happening.

She had missed him. Her heart ached every day since leaving him in Paris, but she had done what she thought was right at the time. Not a day had passed since that she hadn't regretted her actions, hadn't wanted to crawl back to him and plead with him to forgive her.

* * *

"Hey Jen?"

"Yes Jethro?"

"I missed you."

* * *

_THE END - until next time!_


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